


3.1. The Painting

by yeshomodean



Series: What Do You Want From Me? [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Artist Castiel, Caring Dean, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Rated T for language, The smut will be coming soon I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeshomodean/pseuds/yeshomodean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One couldn’t simply be calm when someone as serene as Castiel fucking Novak was behaving like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3.1. The Painting

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I gotta admit, this is probably shitty. I mean, it has a lot of improvised art talk and I just didn't want it to look súper pro or something and the painting is inspired on one that was given to me as a gift and it's really beautiful, my description doesn't make it justice.
> 
> I haven't posted in a long while, and I'm sorry for that. I have a lot written, but only in pieces here and there and I need to put it all together. Happily, now I'm on my Christmas vacations so let's hope I get to that.
> 
> I'm infinitely thankful to Katie (lovers_and_madmen) for her support, she's helped me with so much more than my writing and I truly care about her.
> 
> Anyways, since it's the holidays, let's enjoy some Fluff/Comfort/IDK. Thank you for reading and enjoy!
> 
> (Any mistake is my entire fault, I'm uploading it without letting Katie check it again. Oops.)
> 
> Happy Holidays!

It was a lazy evening for Dean.

His Mechanics class was cancelled due to his professor being sick. The man was near seventy and had been a smoker his entire life, yet he was still on his feet. Mostly.

So, since that was the last thing on Dean’s schedule, he decided to take the rest of the day off.

Except Cas –or, well, Fate, maybe?- had different plans.

Dean was playing on his PlayStation in the living room, his stare stuck to the flat screen he had convinced Cas that they _needed_ instead of the old junk of a TV they had. He was just about to beat the final big boss of his game. It was set in an apocalyptic world, where nature had finally reacted to humanity’s radioactive waste, making animals turn into flesh eating beasts and a population of seven billion people was reducing its numbers by the minute. But one man, that looked a little too much like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stalone’s lovechild, started a camp in order to train the refugees and turn them into badass hunters-

\--when Cas walked in.

Well, actually, he stormed into the apartment, nearly breaking the damn front door by slamming it.

“Dude! What the fuck?!” Dean exclaimed, as he was startled off his gaming-trance by the commotion from the doorway.

Castiel didn’t even look at him, he just dropped his bag beside the entrance and made a run for the kitchen.

Dean turned towards the TV again, only to find that he had been defeated in the split second of not paying attention. Frustrated, he tossed the controller onto the couch and went to tear Cas a new one.

He did not, under any circumstance, imagine he’d find Castiel, most composed person he had ever known, burning up a painting... On the floor of their tiny kitchen.

“ _Cas, what the hell are you doing?!_ ” Dean hurried to take a glass, fill it with water and kill the flame before it actually got dangerously big.

Castiel didn’t try to stop him. He didn’t do anything other than stand there, watching the burning canvas on the floor with his arms crossed. And he didn’t move, even when it wasn’t on fire anymore.

Dean left the glass on the counter and slowly approached Cas, where he was kneeling on the floor, trying not to step in the mess Cas had caused.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even, although all his alarms were going off in his head.

One couldn’t simply be calm when someone as serene as Castiel fucking Novak was behaving like that.

Castiel took a deep breath, his fingers tightened their hold on his own biceps, like he was trying really hard not to explode.

“Castiel, you can trust me.” Dean reassured him, now touching Cas’ hands to try and loosen their grip. He failed. “C’mmon, Cas, talk to me.”

“She didn’t like it.” Castiel growled, his voice low in both volume and tone, and now he was breathing rapidly.

“Who didn’t like what, Cas?” Dean insisted, then looked over at the painting on the floor, and back to Cas. “The painting? You did that, right? What happened?”

Dean felt Cas’ fingers tightening even more around his arms. “Angela said my art was dull. That the colors didn’t express anything. That she couldn’t fucking read anything in my painting.” Cas tore himself from Dean’s grip all of a sudden, violently bursting out in tears, shouting. “I worked on that painting _for six months._ I put my _whole life_ into that painting. It was never good enough! There was always something missing! I just couldn’t find it in myself, what was missing.”

As Castiel took a pause to breathe, Dean tried to coax more out of him.

“Hey, hey, Cas, look at me.” He commanded, trying to find Cas’ eyes with his own. “Take deep breaths, man, it’s okay.” He waited until Castiel’s breaths became less ragged. “Now, who’s Angela?” At the sight of Cas panicking again, Dean craddled his friend’s face in his hands to get Cas to look at him. “Hey! Who’s Angela?”

“My Art teacher.” Cas replied, then closed his eyes in frustration while mouthing what Dean could read as ‘ _fucking bitch’._

“Okay. The bitch, got it.” Dean nodded, then Cas opened his eyes again. “And what’s up with the painting? Six months?”

Castiel tried to calm his breathing to continue, and Dean waited patiently. “That, uhm- An assignment. It was sent at the start of the year, and due for the end of the semester.” Cas seemed like he was about to start sobbing, and Dean could only rub his thumbs over Cas’ cheekbones. “I didn’t start early. I was too confident. I got the materials and prepared the project, only in my head. It had to be perfect, it was a big deal, it meant passing the class, Dean, and I was so worried about it- I couldn’t fail, Dean, and I messed it up-“ Castiel trailed off, trying to tear away from Dean again, but he wouldn’t let him.

“Cas, _please, look at me._ ” Dean insisted, trying to keep it together even though his heart was breaking.

Yeah, breaking, you know why? Because Castiel didn’t fucking deserve failure. He was one responsible son of a bitch, and certainly one hell of a great student and artist. Dean was fascinated every time Castiel came back home with another work of art to hang in the living room. And he was damn sure this new painting was just as amazing, or even better.

“Cas, please, go on. It’ll help, and I won’t judge you. Do you trust me?”

Dean stared into Cas’ eyes for long seconds, trying to decipher what was hiding behind those deep blues, reading _fear_ and _disappointment_ and _desperation_ in them. Lastly, a glint of _exhaustion_ popped up in them, exhaustion that led Cas to give in. “Yes, Dean, I trust you.” He said, and Dean had to clench his jaw in order to keep himself from kissing Cas right then and there.

Castiel cleared his throat before continuing, taking hold of Dean’s wrist to free himself from his grip. Dean tried not to look too disappointed. “I ended up deciding to make it about my life. I don’t remember what made me pick that topic, of all things I could’ve done... But when I finally got to it... There was too much gray.” Cas frowned a little then, like he was hurt. “Then I tried to take a main part of my life, I chose to make it about my childhood and living with my family, and then I used colors like red and orange... yellow... white, but it didn’t feel real... I felt like I still needed to use gray. So I threw that away and started over then, focusing on my life as a college student, and that turned out to be a little better. But still, I was missing something. There was blue and a lighter tone of gray and black, but I needed more... I figured it wasn’t the topic or the colors anymore, that it was the technique. It was too soft here and too harsh there. So I threw away _that_ one and started over again, with the same focus, and paying more attention to the drag of the brush... Only I still wasn’t comfortable with it. I spent sleepless nights and entire afternoons working on it, time that I could’ve used for something else... and it was all for nothing.” He flinched a little then, looking away, but kept going.

“Then I found it.”

Dean knew he shouldn’t have read too much into the look Cas gave him, but the blue eyes that stared back at him seemed hopeful, like those of a kid eager to jump into life and climb to the top. And Dean – _for some stupid reason,_ he thought- felt like that look meant something else. Something that made his heart jump. “I finally found it, Dean.” Castiel continued, making it much worse. “And the painting was done. I still had a month left, so I only fixed minimal details at last.” Cas’ face turned grim again, sorrow taking over his features. Dean hated that look. “And Angela thought it was dull.”

“Okay.” Dean let his hands go up Cas’ arms, carefully tracing the crook of his elbow and then his biceps, until they rested on Cas’ shoulders. “Can I see the painting?” Dean asked, since the canvas that Cas had been burning was laying in the middle of the floor face down.

Castiel hesitated for a moment, his lips attempting to move in protest, but finally nodded.

Dean let go of Cas, turning his back on him to get the painting from the floor, careful to shake the water off it before taking a good look.

Like every other work of Cas’ he had seen, this one left him perplexed. Only, this one was ten times greater than the others.

Now, Dean didn’t know shit about art; the only form of art he knew was sex, and he knew he was pretty good at it, but it didn’t really qualify as art for some people.

 _This, though._ He held the canvas, careful not to mess up the burned part in one corner, but failed to hold his jaw closed as he stared at it.

It was abstract, but a rush of feelings took over Dean’s chest by only looking at it. The background was blue, a deep blue like the ocean at midnight, and a big white circle in the middle that resembled the moon. Surrounding it were soft swirls of turquoise and watery green, along with a bunch of white dots like stars all over it. But right in the middle of it all, in the center of the moon and everything, there was a sillouette painted in green. Bright green, like freshly mowed lawn only a bit darker, breaking contrast with the rest of the colors. It didn’t really have a form, as it was abstract, but Dean could see a siren. Her arms were open, like she was ready to receive someone in them, and her long hair was curled around her shoulder. For some reason, Dean imagined her with more detail, seeing blue eyes and picturing her hair dark brown, and he felt his chest constrict. It was such a weird feeling, like he suddenly needed something more than oxygen, but at the same time like he already had it. Something like-

Like being in love.

“Cas, this...” He couldn’t find the words to describe how he felt about the painting. What could he say about something that almost gave him a damn epiphany? “This is amazing.” He could only come up with those words, but they felt so little compared with what he really wanted to express. “So much more than that, Cas, how- This is a fucking treasure!” He exclaimed as he turned back to Cas.

Castiel’s face beamed with excitement, the corners of his lips curved upwards in the beginning of a smile, and his eyes, _man, his eyes shone like frigging moonlight._

Dean barely had time to put the painting away before Cas jumped into his arms, hugging his torso tightly and burying his face in Dean’s chest. “Thank you.” Cas mumbled against Dean’s shirt. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He repeated like a mantra, and Dean could feel wetness on his shirt.

Cas was _crying._

Dean couldn’t help himself anymore, he hugged Cas back like his life depended on it. Holding his friend tightly against his chest, even leaving a sneaky kiss on top of his head.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Dean taking advantage of every second of it, fulfilling his need to hold Cas from every time he denied himself of it.

Finally, the hug was over, but Dean still let his hands linger on Cas’ shoulders, keeping him close.

Cas cleared his throat, standing up and now with his voice firmer. “Thank you, Dean.” He said, almost formal, although he failed at hiding the smile that wanted to stay on his face. “I, uhm- I apologize, for making you go through such an uncomfortable situation.”

Dean frowned as he got up to his feet, suddenly feeling insulted. “Cas, you don’t have to apologize. We’re friends, right? Friends comfort each other, and I got your back, okay? Don’t ever feel sorry for venting with me.”

Castiel swallowed hard, pursing his lips. “Only if you let me do the same for you, when you feel down.” He gave Dean a doubtful look.

“’Course, Cas. We got each other.” Dean gave him a smile, although crossing his fingers mentally.

_Can’t vent with you when all I’m venting about is you._

With one last smile, Dean suggested, “Hey, why don’t we watch a movie? Y’know, you pick the flick while I make the pop corn, then we can think about what to do with your teacher so she opens her fucking eyes.” That made Cas chuckle, making Dean’s feelings dance all over his ribcage. “I mean, really, that bitch wouldn’t know art if you threw it in her face!”

Castiel chuckled some more, then nodded. “Okay, Dean.” He agreed with a small smile. “Although there’s no need for you to get involved, it could get messy.”

“Hey, I’ve been involved since I signed our lease, so shut your trap, go get some blankets and set up the living room.”

Cas nodded one more time before leaving to do just as he was told, and Dean only shook his head before turning to get the popcorn.

That night they built a fort made out of pillows and blankets, just like he used to do with Sam when they were little kids, ate junk food and had hot chocolate with marshmallows while watching one of Cas’ weird french movies. Dean didn’t quite get the plot, something about women in the late 40s and then he was lost, but there was no way in hell he would say anything that could wipe that smile off Cas’ face. He could look at it _forever_.

 _Man,_ Dean thought _, I’m so fucked._

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the smut will be coming soon!
> 
> (I'm on tumblr as idratherhavemyangel.tumblr.com)


End file.
